


Meanwhile

by tastewithouttalent



Series: Immediate [7]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-05-14 19:10:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19279372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "'We’re supposed to stand around in nice clothes looking polite and restrained for hours, it’s not as if we’re going to be able to keep our hands off each other for the whole ceremony.'" Shizuo and Izaya take a few minutes for themselves during some reception downtime.





	Meanwhile

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Shizuo growls, letting the shape of the words form in the back of his throat rather than running the risk of his voice carrying to the hallway outside. “Couldn’t you wait until we were back at the hotel room?”

“I keep telling you, Shizu-chan, there’s nothing that shocking about this.” Izaya, on the other hand, is making no effort at all to ease the clear bright of his voice; Shizuo hisses self-consciousness, his fingers flexing tight at the grip he has on the other’s hips as if imagining the part of Izaya’s lips against his palm or the sound in the other’s throat restrained beneath his grip. “People fuck during weddings all the time, it’s practically part of the tradition.” He shifts the hand he has bracing against the wall where Shizuo has pinned him so he can flex his shoulder into greater comfort; when he tips his head to glance back at Shizuo his chin is dipped to cast his features into shadow and his mouth curving onto a smirk sharp enough that Shizuo can catch the white-toothed brilliance even from beneath the curtain of Izaya’s hair. “Think of it as really playing the role of bridesmaid.”

“You said that already,” Shizuo snaps, and punctuates with a thrust of his hips enough to dip at Izaya’s lashes and spend his breathing to a groan in his throat. He brings his other hand out to push at the wall before him in an effort to hold himself steady and Shizuo slides one of his feet farther between Izaya’s spread-open legs so he can gain greater force for his movement against the brace of that arm. “I don’t think brides usually look forward to the wedding party sleeping together, though.”

“It’s not like they can reasonably expect restraint,” Izaya says. His head is still turned away from Shizuo’s gaze; his voice is strained in his throat but Shizuo can’t see the expression that goes along with it. “We’re supposed to stand around in nice clothes looking polite and restrained for _hours_ , it’s not as if we’re going to be able to keep our hands off each other for the whole ceremony. I’ve been here since this morning, you know.”

“So have I,” Shizuo points out.

“And here you are,” Izaya tells him from over his shoulder. “Balls-deep in your boyfriend in a hotel bathroom.” Shizuo growls frustration and bucks forward with sharp intent and Izaya’s back arches, his shoulders flexing even as his fingers tighten to brace him harder against the wall in front of him. “ _Ah_. You’re the one who dragged me in here, Shizu-chan, don’t play the innocent now.”

“Only because you were _undressing_ me,” Shizuo snaps. “You had my zipper down and half my vest undone, if I had stayed out there you would have had my dick in your mouth in five minutes more.”

“Mm,” Izaya hums. “And you would have _hated_ fucking my throat in front of two hundred people.”

Shizuo growls. “Shut _up_.”

“Like you weren’t horny too,” Izaya says. “You were looking like you wanted to eat me alive right there in the middle of the dance floor. Your dick was so hard it was about to tear through the front of your slacks, Shizu-chan, I was worried about you ruining your rental if I didn’t take matters into my own hands.” Shizuo thrusts forward to drive up into the strain of Izaya’s body and Izaya gasps a breath against the wall before he speaks again. “Or my own ass, as it turned out.”

“Fuck,” Shizuo manages. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Only when you make me, Shizu-chan.” Izaya tips his head back to cast his gaze over his shoulder. His lashes are heavy over his eyes, his attention sultry with suggestion; even with his cock already pressing into Izaya Shizuo can feel a pulse of answering heat shudder through him to tighten his balls and swell his length fuller. Izaya’s lashes flutter, his lips part on a voiceless exhale, but when he moves it is to shift his heel against the floor to cant his knees fractionally wider than Shizuo has already pressed him. “Why don’t you give it a try right now?”

Shizuo growls heat in the back of his throat, a spill of sound formed of arousal and frustration so closely linked he can’t separate one from the other. Izaya grins as Shizuo steps forward to shove one foot between Izaya’s and slot his knee into the space between the other’s thighs, but his smile gives way to a startled exhale when Shizuo grabs at the back of his neck to shove him forward against the wall in front of him, and in the first shock of the motion Shizuo is coming in to set his other foot alongside the first and hold Izaya’s legs apart with the set of his own. His first thrust is awkward, slow and clumsy with the position of their bodies; Shizuo drops his hold at Izaya’s neck to the other’s hip instead, locking Izaya in place between his palms so he can lift him up by an inch for better alignment with the heat of his own arousal. Izaya comes up onto his toes, his weight tipped hard against his shoulders now pinned flat to the wall and his arms braced beneath him, but when Shizuo moves to thrust deep his head tips back, his spine curving with involuntary heat as he moans with the force driving into him.

“Quiet,” Shizuo grates past gritted teeth. “Someone will hear us.” But he doesn’t slow his movement, doesn’t ease from that first deliberate jolt of pressure, and when he draws back for another motion Izaya groans again, his voice skipping high and carrying as Shizuo moves into him. Shizuo grimaces at the sound echoing off the walls around them and rocks in closer, bracing his leg between Izaya’s to hold the other steady so he can reach and press his hand over Izaya’s parted lips, but even that doesn’t do more than muffle the heat in Izaya’s throat. The sound just goes lower, humming against Shizuo’s palm where he’s gripping Izaya still, until he feels that Izaya’s groans are prickling up his arm to lance heat down his spine and flex involuntary pressure into his thighs even as he bucks up against the other. Izaya’s fingers tense at the wall, his fingernails dragging as if to claim traction against the elegant wallpaper, and Shizuo leans in until his chest is pressing to Izaya’s shoulders to fix the other in place as their bodies come together with slick-smooth rhythm.

Shizuo doesn’t talk. He has a dedicated interest in remaining quiet, even with Izaya’s professed disregard of such things, and with his palm pressing over Izaya’s mouth any speech the other might attempt is muffled into wordless moans before it can take on the razor edge that so frays Shizuo’s temper out-of-keeping. The only sound between them is the panting sound of Shizuo’s breathing, and the stifled notes of heat breaking free of Izaya’s lips pressing to Shizuo’s palm, and the rhythmic action of Shizuo’s cock working into the slick wet of Izaya’s body. There’s something almost peaceful about it, in the quiet that forms around them from the simple sound of their breathing tangling as close together as their bodies, until Shizuo shuts his eyes and ducks his head forward to press against the side of Izaya’s neck. Izaya is radiant with heat, almost feverish under the weight of the clothing still covering the majority of his body; Shizuo can press his nose to the line of Izaya’s collar, where the crisp edge is gapping slightly away from the curve of his throat, and breathe in to draw a deep inhale of the scent that always seems to layer itself to Izaya’s body and tangle into the strands of his hair.

“Fuck,” Shizuo groans, forgetting his audience for the relative quiet Izaya is offering under the weight of his hand. His hips snap forward more sharply than they have before, acting on the deep-down arousal that grips him like a fist whenever he tastes the spicy-sweet of Izaya’s skin against his tongue. “You smell so _good_.”

The sound of Izaya’s muffled laugh recalls Shizuo to himself, at least enough to remember the palm he has crushing Izaya to silence. He eases his hold, drawing his hand away and down over the other’s jaw, but he doesn’t pull away; he fits his fingers to the shape of Izaya’s throat, bracing his thumb at the back of the other’s neck as his fingers form a cage over the rhythm of a racing pulse. Izaya doesn’t resist or indicate any particular discomfort at this, any more than he protests the straining position on his toes that Shizuo has forced him to; he only turns his head against the wall, shifting to face Shizuo pressing to his neck so the heat of his breathing ruffles through the tangle of the other’s hair.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me,” he says, in a tone somewhat softer than what went before. Shizuo suspects the shift in volume to have more to do with the rasp of Izaya’s breathing and the tremor in his thighs than as a conscious capitulation to the need for secrecy, but he doesn’t care; just at the moment, with each forward stroke urging his body close against the give of Izaya’s against him, it’s hard to recall the specifics of his concern anyway. “The way you looked when you saw me standing with Shinra I thought you might be inside me before they were done with the vows.”

Shizuo growls. “You look good,” he says. “I’ve never seen you dressed up before.”

“Now I know how to seduce you,” Izaya says with what Shizuo thinks is meant to be a drawl, although the amusement on it is somewhat undermined by the quaver in his voice. “All I need to do is put on a suit to get you to rip it off me, huh?”

Shizuo hisses. “You don’t need to seduce me,” he says. “At least not in the middle of our best friends’ wedding.”

“There’s no better time,” Izaya says. “Everyone is having too good of a time to notice us being gone for a few minutes. We both look fantastic.” He lifts a hand from the wall to reach over his shoulder; his fingers find Shizuo’s hair and curl to grip tight around the strands. “And this way you can make sure your rented suit smells like me.”

Shizuo doesn’t have a chance to restrain his groan before it spills from his throat and inside the curve of Izaya’s collar. “Fuck,” he says, and reaches around Izaya’s hip to wrap his arm around the other’s waist instead to hold him back against Shizuo’s chest. Izaya arches back against him, giving himself up to Shizuo’s support instead of the wall, and Shizuo moves harder in answer, fixing Izaya still with his arm while he bucks his hips to pump himself inside the other. Izaya hisses an inhale, his fingers tighten at Shizuo’s hair, but Shizuo doesn’t slow and Izaya doesn’t ask him to. He just keeps moving, finding a rhythm that strains his thighs and catches Izaya’s breathing, until Izaya’s hand still against the wall shifts to brace his palm flat against the surface.

“Shizu-chan,” he says, his voice skipping high in his chest as his toes slide against the floor and his fist in Shizuo’s hair pulls taut against the locks. “I’m going--” His wrist at the wall flexes, his fingers tighten. “ _Fuck_.”

“Izaya,” Shizuo says, framing the shape of the other’s name to heat against the side of his neck. He turns his head, shifting to press his lips to Izaya’s throat with the force of a brief, sudden kiss, and Izaya catches a breath into the highest part of his chest. His shoulder flexes, his arm working to press hard against the wall; and then he groans Shizuo’s name, his whole body shuddering into the helpless force of orgasm as he comes. Shizuo can feel pleasure ripple through Izaya’s shoulders against him, quaking in his legs and curling in his fingers and clenching his body tight around Shizuo’s cock, and the heat seems to bleed over him secondhand, rising against the length of his spine as if it has gained force for itself from the persuasion of Izaya’s own. Shizuo’s arm tightens around Izaya’s waist, his mouth comes open to gasp at the other’s throat, and when he moves it’s with the sharp force of desperate intent behind it. Izaya drops his hand from the wall to clutch at Shizuo’s forearm braced around him, his breath straining into moans with each thrust Shizuo takes, until finally the tension rising in Shizuo’s body peaks too high for him to bear. His thoughts go distant, absenting themselves from the reflexive action of his body still continuing to pursue its culmination; and heat surges through him, melting his identity and disintegrating his focus in the first rush of pleasure jolting through his body. His hips snap up, his cock drives into Izaya, and when he spends himself it’s Izaya who moans for the both of them, the plea of his voice eclipsing the lower groan of relief that Shizuo offers to the curve of the other’s neck.

They are still for a moment, as Shizuo’s aftershocks tremor through his body and Izaya weights heavy with his own release in the other’s hold. Then Shizuo eases his grip on Izaya’s waist, enough to lower the other to the support of his own feet, and as soon as Izaya’s weight comes back over his legs he lets Shizuo go to reach for the wall again and catch himself against the support. Shizuo steadies them together, his shoulders hunched in close over Izaya, before drawing out of the other with careful speed, but even then he shudders with the friction and Izaya moans outright, his fingers flexing against the wall before him as Shizuo slides out of his body. Shizuo reaches to brace a hand over Izaya’s shoulder and lean into the support of his arm, just for a moment so he can duck his head and catch his breathing back to something like even, and it’s then, with his head bowed over Izaya’s shoulder and Izaya panting for air before him, that there’s a rattle against the bathroom door handle, followed immediately by a brisk knock. Shizuo grabs for his pants hanging loose around his hips, jerking them back towards the appearance of decency as he looks to the locked door with the first wave of panic, and:

“Yes,” Izaya calls, speaking before Shizuo can think better of letting the other take the lead in communication. “It’s a trifle busy in here, I’m afraid.”

 _“Is that Izaya?”_ Shinra’s voice is unmistakable even muffled by the barrier of the door between them; Shizuo grimaces and starts to step back before realizing that moving away just leaves Izaya’s own disheveled state the more obvious and stepping back in to block the other with his body, moving on instinct even though the lock on the door should offer them a few more minutes of privacy. Izaya makes no motion to collect himself; he just lifts his arm to brace against the wall and pillows his head against his forearm to smile at the door.

“At your service,” he purrs, in a tone close enough to teasing that Shizuo hopes it will serve as disguise for the aftereffects of heat lingering in his throat. “Do you have more best man duties for me?”

 _“No,”_ Shinra says at once. _“I’m actually looking for Shizuo. Is he in there with you?”_

“Why yes,” Izaya says, without so much as hesitating over Shizuo’s hissed indication towards silence. “He’s right--” and then his words cut off, thanks primarily to Shizuo lunging in to clap a hand over his mouth.

“Hey Shinra,” he calls, attempting a casual tone that skips high on self-consciousness. “I’ll be right out.”

 _“Oh, there’s no rush!”_ Shinra declares. _“Celty wanted to get some more casual photos with you but that can wait if you need more time. It sounded like you had finished but if you want another round or--”_

“ _No_ ,” Shizuo says, forcing the word past the embarrassment tight at his throat and flaming crimson all across his cheeks. “No, we’re fine. I’ll be right out.”

 _“Alright!”_ Shinra says. _“As long as I’m not disturbing your celebration. See you in a bit!”_

Shizuo keeps his hand over Izaya’s mouth until the sound of Shinra’s footsteps has faded away down the hallway, which is about as long as he is able to last before he has to lift both hands to cover his face and groan. “ _Fuck_.”

Izaya tosses his head. “I don’t know what you’re so embarrassed about,” he declares as he pulls his slacks back up more-or-less around his hips before stepping around the corner to where the carpeted entrance gives way to tiled floor. “It’s not like they don’t know we’re fucking. Remember when you were still Celty’s roommate and they came back unexpectedly?” The sound of water running announces Izaya turning on the sink, followed shortly thereafter by the splash of liquid as he cleans himself up. “I thought Celty’s eyes were going to fall out of her face when she saw me in your shirt.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Shizuo says, and lets his hands fall from his face so he can glare in the direction where Izaya disappeared. “I had erased that from my mind until this exact moment.”

“Good thing you have me to remind you,” Izaya says. The water shuts off, giving way to the sound of fabric rustling instead. “I’d think that orgasm you had was worth the memory, if nothing else. I thought I was going to pass out, I came so hard.” He steps out from around the corner of the bathroom; his clothes are back in place, his slacks and shirt pulled into pristine tidiness. Even his hair is smoothed back, and if any flush of heat remains across his cheeks it looks more the pleasure in a friend’s happiness than anything else. He spreads his arms to the sides and tilts his head to smirk at Shizuo. “How do I look?”

Shizuo huffs. “I don’t know how you do that,” he says.

“You give me plenty of opportunities for practice,” Izaya says as he steps forward. Shizuo tenses as Izaya reaches out but the other just closes his hold on the other’s collar to slide the button free, followed by urging down the knot of the tie at Shizuo’s neck. Shizuo grimaces at the change but Izaya just considers him for a moment before nodding and looking back up to smile at him. “The wild look is better on you, after all.” He extends his hand palm-up to Shizuo, coupling it with the tilt of a mocking bow as he continues looking up through his lashes. “Shall we go, Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo groans, giving voice to the shape of protest, but when he reaches for Izaya’s hand it’s to close his grip hard around the other’s fingers instead of to push them aside. Izaya laughs, and steps in close to linger at his side as Shizuo moves to unlock the door, and when his fingers slide to fit between the other’s Shizuo tightens his grip for a moment of pressure before easing into comfortable intimacy as they step out of the bathroom and go to rejoin the celebration.


End file.
